


Her fire

by ragdollrory



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Falling In Love, Fire Nation Lotor, Grief, Lotor lives a long time, Lotor's daughter, Pining Lotor, Post-canon Azula, They live a good life, Tragic Romance, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26167279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragdollrory/pseuds/ragdollrory
Summary: Set roughly 5000 years before VLD time. When Lotor makes his way to Earth in the search of the blue lion of Voltron, he finds himself in the middle of the Hundred Year War between the Fire Nation and the rest of the world.
Relationships: Lotor/Azula
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14
Collections: Lotor Week 2020





	Her fire

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not quite sure how to start this note, other than saying this fic is my pride and joy. I started it because I adore Azula with my life, and I'm fascinated by Lotor, so when the opportunity presented itself I thought, why not? Before I knew it, I was writing a 14k love letter to my girl, falling in love all over again, and breaking my own heart in the process. So I hope you can all find a little something here you can enjoy. ❤️
> 
> All my love to the lovely, patient, and amazing [Hiro](https://twitter.com/bioplast_hero), for all the work he put into Beta'ing my baby.
> 
> \---
> 
> I'm sorry for the long note, but I want to add in some little details about this.
> 
> For those VLD readers, my HC is that post-canon Azula spends 10 years in an asylum to recover from her fallout, and regain control of her fire. During that time, she restores her relationship with Zuko.
> 
> For the ATLA readers, I've used VLD time terms, so: tick - second, dobosh - minute, varga - hour, quintant - day, movement - week, phoeb - month, deca-phoeb - year.
> 
> With nothing more to add, hope you like it, and see you in the comments!

“Do the tides command this ship?” In the future, when asked about the moment when he saw her for the first time, Lotor would not be able to mention just one. She was, after all, a work of art, born from nature’s own powers, and molded by hardship and pain. He’d try to describe her plenty, but find himself restricted by the shape of words; human, Galra or any other in the whole of the universe he’d explored.

“I'm afraid I don't understand.” The mediocre captain’s words had Lotor scoffing. Of course he wouldn’t understand her. She was above him, and everyone else on this ship, barring himself perhaps. And even then, Lotor was very out of his element here, hidden amongst her crew on her vessel by mere happenstance, lingering then just to be able to see her unravel this moment to its zenith. He wanted— needed— to see her conquer them all, reach her full potential, and shine with the golden flare of her eyes.

“You said the tides would not allow us to bring the ship in,” Azula replied. “Do the tides command this ship?” The girl’s tongue was harsh, and Lotor watched as the captain cowered at her repeating of the question. As he should, he thought. No one of her station should have to ask for anything twice. He would’ve not allowed it, were this his craft.

“No, Princess.” Lotor could not see her face, standing with her back to the crew as someone who controls every soldier’s intake of air and is not afraid to use it to her advantage. Yet he could imagine her face, the curl of her lips in a shadow of a smirk he’s already learned was a signature of hers.

“And if I were to have you thrown overboard, would the tides think twice about smashing you against the rocky shore?” Lotor made his way to this small and underdeveloped planet merely a couple of months ago, had found the young princess just some weeks back, and yet he was right to feel the weight of those words as the formidable threat they were.

“No, princess.” The captain knew it, too, and as the man bowed, cowed under the cold tone of the princess’ voice, Lotor felt oddly proud of her.

“Well then, maybe you should worry less about the tides who've already made up their mind about killing you, and worry more about me, who's still mulling it over.” Later on, years from that day, Lotor would not be able to determine that this was the very moment he decided his life was no longer ruled by his father’s wishes, the stars call, or the tide of any planet he’d known, but he too was waiting for Azula to make up her mind about him.

-

_ You were never even a player. _ The words reached Lotor’s ears through the hearsay so very typical of the military ranks during their march to the impenetrable city. An organization that should behave impartial and distinguished, but was always reduced to a bunch of schoolyard children when no one was watching. Regardless, he’d found himself smiling, because of course she’d delivered such a line. Lotor could picture her, sitting at the usurped throne, as mighty as her soldiers described her, surrounded with the sort of beauty that comes with a job well done. With  _ victory _ .

He shouldn’t, but he allowed himself to be a part of the celebrations over the conquest of Ba Sing Se, laughing over the tenth retelling of how she’d made a fool of the head of the elite earthbending force. He let the smile linger on his lips, when the princess opened the doors for them— the best guarded city in the world— without breaking a sweat, and looking as polished in Earth Kingdom green as in her native red.

Lotor couldn’t say he hadn’t entertained the idea of offering her a black and purple uniform.

She’d make a great asset for the Galra, a fine general to add to his fleet. He could make great use of her sharp mind for warfare, her brilliance for manipulation, and eloquence for speech. Azula was a much finer princess, bound to this forgotten rock at the edge of the universe, than any other he’d met, nevermind how advanced the society was.

“It's not too late for you, Zuko. You could still redeem yourself.” Through tricks, manipulation and straight out bribery, Lotor secured himself a place in the princess’ inner circle. He got to witness the moment she flipped the tables and had her brother dropping everything to join her.

“The kind of ‘redemption’ she offers is not for you!” Their uncle tried to reason, but Lotor saw the doubt—  _ the need of her— _ clear as day in her brother’s eyes. There was no room for argument against her, and yet, she hit the nail one more time, just to secure her win.

“Why don't you let him decide, uncle? I need you, Zuko. I've plotted every move of this day, this glorious day in Fire Nation history, and the only way we win is  _ together _ . At the end of this day, you will have your honor back. You will have father's love. You will have  _ everything _ you want.”

The words were carefully handpicked, little blooms cultivated specifically for the troubled young man that was blood of her blood. Lotor felt rather than saw the air shift in the room. The moment unfurling, like a flower finally opening its petals after months of attentive care. The exact second the prince made up his mind, and how Zuko’s breathing calmed, chest falling and rising softly, to echo hers.

Lotor had yet to successfully cultivate a juniberry flower, but he imagined it would look just like her smile did after the battle was won.

-

By the time Lotor realized how the war would end, and his plan of rule the Fire Nation through its daughter would fail, he’d become more invested in the princess’ life than he’d care to admit.

The plan, her plan, for the day of the eclipse had been flawless but for one detail. Her brother was too noble for his own good, too much for her ambitious mind to have seen it coming. But Lotor had seen war— had been born in one— and lived breathing it ever since. He knew the winds had changed, and could tell the Avatar had the upper hand now. It was time to leave.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re hiding something,” she said to Lotor’s back as he made for the exit. Her voice washed over him with a warmth he shouldn’t mistake for anything other than the warning of her lashing fire. But he would be in denial for years to come, and so he let his eyes flutter closed for a moment, enjoying the way he could feel her eyes boring at the back of his head. Assessing.

“I’m sorry, Princess.” Lotor bowed, a small drop of his head, pulling his Fire Nation-issued helmet off, and tucking it into the crook of his elbow. Of course she knew something was off about him, nevermind how advanced his camouflage was. His princess was just that alert.

“No, you’re not.” Azula chuckled, and Lotor’s eyes snapped open to find her. She was closer than he expected, having made her way around him and standing just a few steps away. “But that’s quite alright. You’re hardly a menace, are you?”

“Not to you, no,” Lotor answered honestly, and that earned him a twitch of her lips, head cocked to the side, eyes searching. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was seeing beyond the illusion of his appearance as a common citizen of hers.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, golden eyes prodding at his every angle, his chin held high and hands clasped behind his back in a very familiar position for him. A small kit by Galra standards, Lotor had been evaluated his whole life, judged. Yet he couldn’t remember a time where someone a good two heads shorter than him had kept his spine as ramrod straight as the young princess did then.

“Out with it.” A wave of her hand returned air to his lungs. Lotor couldn’t imagine what she found in her inspection, but her shoulders dropped considerably under the heavy plate of the armor, so he’d take that as a win, and run with it.

“I’m leaving.” Simplicity seemed the best course of action, Lotor thought. Baby steps, human baby steps.

“The nation?” she asked, but there was a glint to her eye already, such a bright, clever girl. He shook his head, and the minute raise of her eyebrows confirmed his suspicions about her guesses. And just how much pride could he feel for this little human, before the metal around his chest became too tight?

“I want to take you with me,” he said at last. A candle flickered at their side. A sign of her interest, perhaps? Tentative hope pushed its way to the centre of his ribcage.

“I can’t.” It was as simple as that, yet Lotor felt there was something wrong with that statement. There had to be, because when had he been rejected, in his many centuries of life? “But—”

_ But. _ Blue eyes met gold once again, already knowing he’d accept her every  _ but. _

“I can’t now, not when the end of the war is so near. But I can’t say I’m not curious.” There was a series of words piling up behind Lotor’s lips, kept there by the aching hold of his teeth refusing to let them out.

Because how to explain, in just a conversation, the nature of his trip to her world. The search for a sentient machine, created and hidden there by a man more powerful than both of them. The series of events that led him and his race to a constant need of quintessence, and how her world— how she herself _ — _ had so much of it, so pure. That she needn’t settle for a single nation, not even four of them, when she could conquer solar systems at his side. Entire galaxies, the whole universe if she so desired. 

He swallowed them all, jaw as tight as his smile was polite.

“Of course.” Helmet forgotten on a table nearby, Lotor bowed properly in the way of her nation, left palm flat and right hand in a fist under it. “It’s been a pleasure to serve you, princess.”

Leaving the room, the palace, and all the way back to his ship, the way turned colder with every step he took away from her. But Lotor would blame that on how his body grew accustomed to the element of fire, for years after he saw the last speck of the blue planet through his ship’s porthole.

-

Time in space, and particularly time for Lotor, had always worked differently. What for another species was a lifetime, for him was a stroll around the next galaxy, or a particularly long study session in his personal library. He was used to knowing entire generations of the same family on the planets he’d managed to keep free from his father’s claws. He was used to being forgotten and relearned on some of them, as well, when enough time had passed between his visits.

Exiting the orbit of the small planet, Lotor had reached the compromise with himself, that he’d return to recover the blue lion sometime in the next century, or two. He had business to attend to in another corner of the universe after all, and he couldn’t bother himself with a new plan, or disguise, so close to his departure.

Too soon, though, he found himself stopping on a dwarf planet’s moon at the end of this particular solar system. There he took to pacing the inside of his personal craft, until the debate going on inside his head had lost all sense, and Lotor found himself returning to her world.

It had been a mere tick for him, a couple of vargas at the most, but when his feet touched the humid surface of the volcanic island that was hers, seven human years had passed.

In the time that Lotor had tried and failed to dissuade himself from this ridiculous errand, the humans had ended a hundred-years war, placed the vanished prince on the throne, and apparent peace had settled over their world.

He couldn’t say he minded the change: the newfound mix of colors in the streets of Caldera, and the removal of the towering and oppressive statues of the previous Fire Lord, making room for fountains where young benders and non-benders played. The walk up to the palace was agreeable under the bright, young star of this planet. The new ruler was getting on well with his people, and Lotor couldn’t help wanting to see just how the princess had flourished with these developments.

-

“Hers is the last door to the right.” The news of the princess’ breakdown left an acute pain at Lotor’s side, somewhere between his ribs and near his lungs. It stabbed him and quickened his heartbeat as he walked the seemingly endless way to her room in the asylum she’d called home these last years.

“Is she—” The question refused to form on his lips, the same way his hands refused to relax, nails relentlessly digging into his palms.

“She’s lucid now,” the nurse answered, a tall and harsh-looking woman.

Now. She’s lucid,  _ now. _ Lotor was acutely aware of the way his throat tightened at the word.

The ticks piled up at his back, feet rooted to the spot in front of the door, and pulse loud in his ears. Maybe, if he waited long enough, time would come crashing down on him, and he’d be forced inside. Perhaps by then the gash opening in his chest would mend.

“Don’t worry.” The woman’s voice was supposed to be soothing, but to Lotor was anything but. It sounded fake and practiced, insulting in the way only places like this managed to accomplish. “She can’t bend, so she’s not a danger.”

Lotor turned at that, eyes widening with a sort of terror he wasn’t aware he could feel, but the metal door was already closing behind him.

Time and space stretched infinitely between them. The chill of the room was unnatural in a way Lotor could not ascribe to the princess he’d known.

“You’re not Zuko.” Her voice held only so much of her previous snark, as if she were tired, barely an ember of who she’d been. And perhaps she was; he could already feel the crushing weight of this place, and could only imagine what it would do to her bright self after seven years of captivity.

“Would you rather I were?” Lotor found himself asking, still unsure of what to make of the figure the princess cut against the barred window.

“No, I’m glad it’s you.” 

-

“How did you get past them?” she asked him later that day, both of them sitting on the floor at opposite ends of the room. Lotor was still trying to wrap his mind around the changes in her— changes that little had to do with time and all about space.

Before, Lotor saw a warrior, fire incarnate in a girl, with a tight leash on her emotions though free with her sarcasm. Now she was dressed in institutional white, skin sickly-looking, lips a faded pink and golden eyes a dying sun, her charcoal hair the only thing separating her from the wall. It was longer than before, fresh ink framing her face, cascading freely down her thin and delicate neck and reaching below her shoulder blades.

“I’m good at forgery,” he answered simply, not finding a good reason to lie about it. As if he wouldn’t have ripped the roof off just to get to her.

“I’m sure you are.” Her face brightened at that, even if it was a fleeting thing, a falling star across the night sky, regaling Lotor with a glimpse of her smile and a barely-there chuckle.

A fugacious moment that tipped Lotor’s life over, and bound him to this little planet for the following years.

-

“A nurse! You?” The shock in her voice was laced with something else, close to amusement, and disbelief. Soon, Lotor found himself under her accusatory glare with a finger poking at his chest, the very same spot that had cracked open, heart bleeding out in pain two movements ago when first entering this place.

Now, green grass around them and the morning sun bathing them in its warmth, he had to admit that, even if it wasn’t healed, it was less tender under her prodding.

“I believe it is me, yes, princess,” he grinned down at her, contentment already growing in him at having stoked that fire of hers.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, loud enough for him to hear, before turning around and walking away. If Lotor closed his eyes at the whip of her hair brushing against his chest, and the faint rose scent coming from it filling his nostrils, it was but a fleeting moment and no one had to know about it.

“Well,” Azula turned around in a huff, her face so close to the one Lotor remembered, he couldn’t possibly mind the exasperation aimed at him. “Are you going to come with, or are you an even worse fake nurse than you were a fake soldier?”

He laughed, head tipped down and chest infinitely lighter, before rushing to her side and bowing to her. A smile still pulled at the corners of his lips, matching the tightening of her eyes at the corners, telling Lotor she was as amused as him.

“I wasn’t a bad soldier, though.”

“No, you really weren’t.”

-

“I thought you weren’t real,” she confessed one day, a couple of phoebs since Lotor managed to sneak his way into the working staff of the asylum. It was late at night, and she hadn’t asked how he’d managed to get them out into the gardens undiscovered, but followed through the silent corridors with mischief dancing in her eyes. Lotor rejuvenated a couple hundred years at the sight.

“I thought I’d made you up, like the rest of the voices, the people.” Her hair was a heavy curtain between them now, hiding her face from him, as she poured fragments of the past years onto the darkened grass under them. “That you were a trick of my mind, an attempt to get me out of the palace before it all came crashing down.”

Lotor was not exactly sure of what happened, but for bits and pieces he’d collected from her and the rest of the staff. He was not too keen on hearing about this secondhand, but sometimes it was hard to avoid. And much as he’d like to strangle some of the nurses and guards with his bare hands for their disparaging comments, he couldn’t afford to bring attention to her. To them.

“I don’t think I would’ve gone with you, though, even if I’d known.” She looked up then, and for the first time since finding her again, Lotor was gifted with the most vibrant of golds staring right into his soul. “I was a very stubborn child.” There was a ghost of a smile on her lips, but it was gone so fast, he might as well have imagined it.

“I was a very stubborn kid as well.” He admitted, with a shrug. “I probably would’ve stayed, too.”

“I wasn’t a nice kid.” The words held a challenge of sorts, mixed with an apology, as if she were expecting him to bolt at that. Her eyes told him as much.

“I’m not a nice  _ adult _ .” For a second, he feared he’d crossed the invisible line the two of them were constantly toeing, the princess taking the tiniest of steps back, as if considering he might not be there for her good after all.

“Sometimes we’re not allowed to be” was all she answered, and continued their walk.

-

Lotor learned many things in this way, whispered to the dead of night or in passing as they walked the gardens alone, and he valued each and every one of them as the gifts that they were.

That Azula’s mother had left them, and her father corrupted them, and that she had nightmares still about both of her parents, no matter the therapy or treatment.

That on the cusp of claiming what she’d fought her whole life for, she’d been alone, abandoned and betrayed by family and friends alike.

That the thin bracelets she wore now would keep her fire from manifesting. She’d lost control of it in the end, but was training slowly to get it back.

That her brother was all she had left, and the only one who believed in her, waiting for her to finally recover and return to the palace, to his side.

And that now Lotor had made that small list, as well.

In turn, he spoke in vague terms about his own mother dying, his father refusing to see him more than needed because Lotor didn’t meet his expectations, and his constant search for something more.

A connection to his mother.

A way to please his father.

An escape from it all.

A source of light in the dark of the universe.

Lotor could swear, in those moments stolen from the tight rein reality held over them, that the air grew a little bit warmer around them.

-

“One more time,” the princess called at her firebending instructor. Lotor watched them go about what he knew by her own tellings to be mid-level movements that she’d once mastered but had since lost.

“Princess, maybe we should stop for today,” the man offered instead. Lotor knew of firebending by reading and witnessing it while in the nation’s army. It wasn’t much, and he still was equally blown away by a mere flame being called onto someone’s palm as he would be anything more elaborate. But having been granted the honor to sit in Azula’s practices now, Lotor knew she wouldn’t simply let it go.

“One more time. I can do it.” And she could, he could attest to that much. The man bowed in acceptance, and they moved into position once again.

By the time she repeated the movements, a long, fluid, and deadly line of fire leaving her body— following a series of pirouettes Lotor could’ve only described as intricate and hypnotic— she’d done it better than the instructor before her.

Pride bloomed in Lotor’s chest, rapidly overpowered by something more primal and heated when she turned on her heel and walked up to him with a full-blown smile. Her breathing was slightly out of pace, and there was a thin layer of sweat on her temple that he’d never before seen on her after bending, but  _ stars _ he’d never expected to see such raw happiness on her face. Open and freely given, in a way royals were definitely trained out of from their first years of life.

“That was... something. I’m all yours now,” she said breathily, and with a dangerous and tantalizing glint to her eye Lotor was sure he wasn’t imagining. Far too dangerous.

It took him a moment, a couple of ticks and a woeful skip of his heartbeat, to realize she was holding her arms out, and that he was holding her cuffs.

“Right. Yes.” His gaze broke free of hers and focused instead on the creamy skin offered, the small and fragile shape of her wrists, and the long and nimble fingers that could very well end a man at a moment’s notice.

Lotor would admit little to no shame, taking this moment to wrap the thin stripe of metal around her pulse point, letting his thumb brush over her skin as the piece snapped into place with a soft click. He couldn’t pinpoint when this had started, but somewhere along the way, in the little over a year since he’d decided to stay, the energy had shifted. 

Lotor knew he was playing with fire, cliche as the metaphor was, and it bewitched him as much as it terrified him.  _ She _ terrified him. With the soft curve of her lips that hid the cutting ways of her tongue, and those alluring pools of gold that were her eyes, the door to her sharp mind and deepest secrets. 

“There you go, princess.” He kept his tone even, aware of the audience around in the middle of the day. Her training had drawn many eyes to watch, one of their few means of entertainment.

“Why, thank you, my faithful nurse.”  _ Wicked _ . Lotor followed the movement of her hand, reaching to drop her braided hair over her shoulder, and killed the urge to reach out and tuck a loose strand behind her ear— one of those rebellious bits falling from the plait after the training session and framing her face charmingly.

“I’m merely doing my job, of course.” It was a weak effort to diffuse her devious game, but it was the best he could manage, so he’d take it.

“Of course.” There was a subtle hitch of her lips to her left, and she was gone.

Wicked, yes, and totally insincere in her coyness.Lotor was sure the slashing of her fire whip would be far more merciful than her daring taunts at him.

-

“You’re leaving.” It was not a question, but Lotor couldn’t say he’d been expecting one, even when he was not exactly expecting her to pick up on his plans for departure so readily. He shouldn’t be surprised at all, after the time spent in her company taught him once and again her brilliance was not merely a performative extension of the sun, but filled her being entirely.

“I have to.” Yet as the words parted his lips, Lotor’s mind was already working on a way to stay, futile and reckless as it might be. But  _ stars and Agni _ if he hadn’t already found a perfect reason to annihilate his father and his entire wretched empire, he found it now in the delicate tilt of her head as she once again weighed his truths and lies.

He felt transported to that first time around, when he’d fantasized about taking her with him. When he could’ve spared her from all of this. The setting was different, but his feelings remained the same, and where the once ornate walls in red and gold from the palace had been replaced by the maddening white of the asylum, they were now not as barren, the same as her eyes staring back at Lotor.

Slowly, her room had become an echo of a better past, while she’d gradually shed the cold terrors and old ways to unfold into a brighter future.

Lotor refused to let himself think his hand had anything to do with it, even when he could see his touch all around the confining four walls. The books he’d brought her, margins scribbled in old Altean and Galran translations she was intent in learning. A small, blue gem she’d somehow tricked out of him, from a planet long lost, and that now rested on her bedside table. The way her features softened for him, guard never fully down, yet tranquil like still water, waiting for his actions to react. Waiting to make up her mind about him.

“Me staying here puts you at risk.” It was the truest, vaguest explanation he could give, if only because he didn’t want to burden her mind with what was so beyond her reach, especially when he was sure she’d jump at the first opportunity for new knowledge and then he wouldn’t be able to leave.

“So gracious of you.” The lilt to her voice was as sad as it was lofty, sitting uncomfortably in his chest. The ticks filled the room between them with the weight of inevitability, the questions she wasn’t asking and the answers he refused to volunteer.

“I have to train,” she said, breaking the silence at last, eyes drifting away from his face and onto the gardens beyond the window. The sun was still high in the sky, her profile cutting perfectly against its glow. She held her chin high to compensate for the way her shoulders drooped, and her hands unconsciously worried her starched uniform.

“I’ll stay for that,” he blurted the promise, words escaping against his will, feet carrying him a step closer. And then another.

“Will you—” Azula turned with the sun in her eyes, the gold as vibrant as the emotions Lotor refused to acknowledge. He was rooted to the spot, blindsighted, gaze dropping to the shape of her parted lips, and head falling lower when he caught himself. She cleared her throat and there was a sound of her feet shifting against the floor. 

“Braid my hair for me.” It was almost a question, hesitant and low, wrapped around the semblance of an order. Much like she was wildfire, concealed in white clothes and confined by metal bracelets.

It was at moments like these that Lotor missed that fire the most, when he was desperate for a change in the air around them. A flicker of warmth, to know he wasn’t imagining things. That the way this precious human slowly filled the empty spot beneath his ribcage wasn’t unrequited.

“Of course, princess.” The smile came to his lips as easily as he’d kept returning to her every day, and she reciprocated it with a tenderness he’d yet to find aimed his way anywhere else in the vast universe.

Her hair was soft, cool to the touch like the still water of a lake at night. It flowed with a surprising lightness when compared to the deceptive volume he found his hands full of. The princess sat still on the one chair in her room, hands folded together on her lap, while Lotor struggled with the fact that his fingers were lost in luscious ink and his mind seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, let alone braid.

A soft sigh fell from her lips when Lotor combed it, all the way down to where her waist was the narrowest. It had been so low it could’ve very well been the summer breeze blowing outside the room, but it replicated in a tremor rushing down his spine, his breath coming up shorter with every strand of black silk slipping through his fingers.

Realistically, there was no need to brush it, other than Lotor’s own desire to do so. Yet there was a stalling quality to the silence, an unspoken request to let the doboshes slowly turn to vargas. Let the vargas melt and slip through his fingers like her hair did, and let this moment weave in on itself, between them, like the thick braid slowly taking shape down the princess’ back.

Once it was finished with a red ribbon tying the end of it, only the pride over a plait well done stopped Lotor from pulling it apart and starting all over again.

When her fingers brushed his hand, draping the braid over her shoulder to inspect it, he willed his heart to stop its wild gallop in his ribcage.

When she finished her training session that morning, and when Lotor finally managed to unroot himself from the spot to her side that had been his home for the past deca-phoebs, he commited the last satisfied smile she’d gifted him to memory.

It would be his light as he took to the darkness of space once again.

-

_ It was an illusion. _ Lotor planted the idea in his own head as he boarded his ship.

_ It was unrequited, _ he tried to lie to himself, crossing galaxies to reach the empire.

It was wrong, and a caprice. The thought repeating in his mind as he stood in front of his father, a bearer of bad news, when he informed the lack of findings.

He desperately tried and failed to latch onto those ideas, while he endured the punishment for his failure. Yet, after being worn down by his contenders in the arena, battered body dragged through cold metal corridors to face the fury of his emperor, his mind lost the ability to keep her out. 

The whip cut through the stale air of the ship, woven leather crossing the expanse of his shoulders, and her sweet and contained laughter sparked in his memories. He lost control of his self-own deception.

It was so easy too, to fall into the feeling of that unusually chill morning in the Fire Nation, when she’d been testing the limits of her stubbornness and the power of her bracelets by going out without a coat. While Lotor had maybe two ticks to recover before the next blow, he fruitlessly tried to recall what it was that he’d said to make her laugh. It had to have been biting, rude even, while he offered her his own outer robe. And she’d laughed before she could control it, a hand covering her mouth as soon as she realized.

Zarkon’s hand went up again, and Lotor took as deep a breath as he could before the whip flayed his skin. He thought of Azula’s averted gaze, and tense shoulders.

They had been skirting the topic for weeks by then, the why and how of her repressed fire, until she just blurted it all out one night. The Agni Kai with her brother, the waterbender girl, and her manic episode literally breathing out blue flames. He’d been terrified and captivated all at once. The way she’d fought tooth and nail against her nurses during the first years in the asylum. The drugs, straightjacket, and her brother’s eventual solution in the form of the bracelets. He’d been disgusted by it all, and proud of her.

Another blow cut through his back, and Lotor bit down on his lips, fangs drawing blood, as he battled against the need to scream his pain away. A dancing flame appeared before him.

“It’s supposed to be better than this,” she’d said, a frown knitting her brows together in frustration. To Lotor this was a magnificent flame, vibrating in the brightest red on her open palm, but he knew her. Perfection had once been her highest quality, and farthest fall, and he knew she wasn’t going to stop until the red turned blue once again. “It’s lovely,” he’d said, closing the cuff around her wrist, and making the flame die down.

The next strike pushed Lotor forward with a gasp, and the one after it had his claws marking up the floor underneath him for support. The emperor found his rhythm, and Lotor had lost the hold on his emotions. His knees hurt against the hard deck, and he could feel the way the whip’s cruel licks were opening new paths across his back, yet he refused to fall.

Ten, eleven, twelve…

Her smile, the soft smell of her hair.

Nineteen, twenty, twenty one…

The way she always seemed to be admonishing him.

Twenty five, thirty, forty…

Her eyes, golden and bright like a star.

-

Lotor wasted no time between pushing himself to his feet in the middle of the throne room, and getting back on his ship. The path was cleared for him, too, because no one was fool enough to bring aid to the failed prince. No one even dared glance in his direction, or at the trail of blood he left in his wake.

He hissed when his back touched the pilot seat, fingers trembling as he gripped the controls, but he welcomed it as the soothing balm that it was: his ticket out of that abhorrent place he’d never been able to call home.

The craft took flight, and Lotor piloted it past the edge of that galaxy, and way beyond his point of exhaustion, to be well beyond his father’s reach and sure no one was following him. The fight was never really over.

He dared not sleep, barely managed to keep himself fed and hydrated. A healing pod was not an option, not until he was able to breathe out loud again, without having to look over his shoulder.

It was wrong, and a caprice, but Lotor still set his course back to her planet. It could be an illusion, and unrequited, but he’d lived far worse lies than her warmth.

-

He caused a commotion.

"The princess." Lotor asked after her at the asylum's entrance, ship already hidden, appearance camouflaged, but his injuries were not so easily disguised. The nurse at the door eyed him warily but, upon his insistence, informed Lotor that the princess was no longer a resident there, but had returned to the palace.

That was good, Lotor thought. Not even the lingering pain of the open gashes stuck to the fabric of his flight suit could erase the smile from his lips as he dragged his body down the mountain side and into the heart of Caldera, knowing she was free from that place.

People veered out of his way as Lotor stumbled through the market street and back up again the dead volcano's side to where her palace was cocooned. There was renewed energy fuelling him forward. Lotor fought the fatigue and fever from his mind, focusing instead on picturing her in the nation's favoured red instead of the asylum's starched white uniform.

He winced up the endless hill, absently noticing he was limping on his right, but pushed forward. Lotor was a lost man in the desert, and the promise to see her in her element once again was the oasis that would quench his thirst. Surrounded by gold and silks, as she was always meant to be. With the fire back in her eyes, and that faint rose color to her cheeks.

Would she wear a dress, he wondered? He’d never seen her in one before, life presenting him with a child soldier the first time around, and a broken girl the second. He wasn’t sure if she’d ever favored them, but he couldn’t help the image filling his mind, probably aided by the temperature rising in his body. A mixture of his wounds winning the battle against his will and the young sun blazing down on his back.

Lotor made his way through the wards by force of will. The men there were doing an admirable job of protecting their rulers, making his way to her side a harder task that he was able to take. Under any other circumstance, that would’ve been but a stroll in the park, but now, every attempt at stopping him was taxing. He cursed under his breath, pushing the next couple of guards off of him, not caring about his Galran mixing up with their language anymore. Every couple of steps of headway he managed, he was delayed a couple more doboshes by the next set of soldiers rushing out to do their job.

He tried his best not to harm them, aiming to knock out or disarm, and in his book that was reason enough to grant him the privilege to see her at least once before his body finally gave way.

"The princess," he panted at the imposing palace door, his voice already weak but his reflexes— even when severely diminished— were still quicker than that of the guards attempting to keep him from her.

It was growing tiresome, Lotor's body and the recent treatment he'd undertaken weighing down on him. It was only so much more to go though, and the thought of her waiting inside was more than enough for him to keep on pushing through.

Would she wear red, as her nation as status favoured? Would her clothes cling to her trim waist, enhanced in gold and the heavily-woven patterns of the rich fabrics? Perhaps she’d wear her hair up and away from her face. Maybe she’d leave some down, framing her thin and regal features. Regardless, she was the sight he longed to see before exhaustion claimed him.

His body swayed under the assault of the next guard. A blast of fire had him jumping out of the way, and rolling on the marble floor with a hiss. It had a growl pouring from his chest, a foot darting out to swipe the man from his feet, falling next to him where Lotor made a quick work of knocking him out with a jab to the jaw.  _ Just a little more. _ Lotor was familiar with the palace layout, and knew he was probably only a turn or two away from her.

"The princess," he gasped out, standing once again and powering forward.

The hallway was filling out with armored soldiers then, shouts could be heard behind shut curtains and closing doors. He was a menace to their security, and servants, ministers; really anyone in the palace was wise to try and move out of his way. If only the guards would understand and do the same.

And then he heard her.

"Stop! Zuko, no— let go of me!" It was only a tick later that he saw her, and all the battle left his body as soon as his eyes saw worry thinning her lips and furrowing her brows.

It was all it took for a guard to knock him over then, chest hitting the floor and an arm twisted behind his back. The other arm was pinned to the floor under the boot of another soldier. A cry of agony tore from his throat, filling the endless hallway.

"Let him go!" Lotor heard her voice pinched in pain, watched as her brother tried to keep her from moving forward.

Within the buzzing haze of pain slowly filling his mind, Lotor's chest constricted with guilt over bringing her worry, and he tried to crane his neck to the side to catch another glimpse. Just one was all he needed.

"Zuko, I swear to  _ Agni, _ stop this right now!" But Lotor couldn't see anymore. His body was finally overcome from the exertion of the last couple of vargas. He imagined, rather than heard, the order being given by the young Fire Lord, and the weight of the soldiers lifting from his body. He breathed.

And then she was at his side, and her natural warmth seeped into his beaten body. "Lotor!" 

"Princess." It was less than a whisper. He couldn't see her behind the tears filling his eyes against his will, but he managed to take a hand to rest on her lap. "You're wearing a dress." Vaguely, he thought he might have been ruining said dress with his dirtied and bloodied hand. And then everything went black.

-

Waking up was a slow affair, slower than any time he’d spent in a healing pod. His eyelids fluttered, battling over whether opening or not to the warmth of the sunlight, and it wasn’t until a moment later that his mind caught up with everything and he sat up with a start.

In hindsight, he shouldn’t have laughed. The movement made his ribs ache and his head throb with pain, forcing him back against the plush pillows and closing his eyes. It was pain he was familiar with, though. That wasn’t the problem, no.

It was her eyes, the second he was up and caught sight of them.

It was the concern etched on her young face, and hands worrying slender fingers on her dress— she was wearing one after all— and it was the fire. The fury hidden behind her distress, swimming in the pools of vibrant gold, boring down on him in this soft bed that was soon to become his place of eternal rest, if the promise he’d spotted there was anything to go by.

_ “You—” _ Her voice trembled around the one word, and Lotor shouldn’t be laughing still, but  _ stars _ he was alive after all. He would embrace it for as long as it lasted, before she came for his hide. 

“You, liar, slimly piece of shit, how dare you!” Her words were slowly drawing closer and he felt the heat of them licking over his body. Ah, but it was delicious.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was that of her heavy breathing and his dwindling laughter, and Lotor dared look up to find her once again. The anger was palpable on her face, on the set line of her lips and her jaw. But so was the fear, in the tremble of her shoulders and darting of her eyes over his form. And he couldn’t recall a single time where he’d been stared down quite like that. It ignited something wild within his chest and sent a dangerous heat travelling down his arms and legs.

“Princess.” Lotor’s hand found the wrist closest to him and closed around it, a contented hum rumbling in his throat when he found there was no metal bracelet there anymore. It made her all the more dangerous, and it made him all the more ravenous.

“Do not ‘princess’ me, Lotor,  _ what the hell were you thinking? _ You said you left to protect me, and you come back like this? Have you even seen yourself? Or did you, for a single moment, consider the consequences of barging into the palace like that?” Her skin burned where he touched her, but even as her tongue lashed with nothing but reprimands, her body leaned closer and closer to his side.

“I,” Lotor licked his lips, trying to kill the smile in them for fear of angering her further. “Are the guards alright?”

“Y— what? Are the guards alright? Yes, they’re alright, is that all you have to say for yourself?” Her lashing out had the room warming up around them, and Lotor thrived on it, and on the way her lips curled around the words, with the aristocratical tilt he’d so missed since she’d been sent to the asylum. “Lotor, they could’ve— you could’ve— you passed out on me! I didn’t know what to do! I—”

He didn’t let her finish, didn’t want to let her climb onto that ledge. Anger against himself he would take, he deserved even, but he couldn’t stand her fear, so open and raw. Couldn’t bear being the source of it, not to mention consider himself deserving of such a feeling from the princess.

He pulled her into his arms, swallowing down the wince that came with her weight on bruised ribs and bandaged wounds. There was a soft gasp of surprise against his ear, accompanied by her stiffening body, and for a moment he let his arms go limp around her to allow her to pull away. But then she was relaxing in his hold and burying her face in his hair, and Lotor— he thought he had probably died in that hallway after all, by the way the sweet smell of her hair filled his mind and warm hands rested carefully against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he offered after some time. A lesser apology in her language than he could’ve offered in his mother tongue, but it seemed to do the trick because she relaxed further and the last of the trembling finally left her.

“You should be.” He took the fading anger in her voice as the apology’s acceptance, and dared to close his arms around her middle once again. “I’m going to make you pay for it as soon as you can get up from this bed.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less from you, princess.” The threat was a soothing balm to his soul. She was there, in his arms, and she was that fiery girl once again. That alone was worth the ordeal he’d been through.

They stayed like that, neither moving but rather letting their presence appease any remaining fear. For the first couple of doboshes, Lotor counted the ticks and awaited the moment when she’d pull away, building that wall that had kept them carefully apart over his prior visit. When it didn’t come, he notched it as the universe giving him some respite at last, enjoying her warmth and the quietness of the room they were in.

“Dare I ask about the Fire Lord?” he whispered at some point, when he felt her finally shift where he’d kept her carefully tucked into his side. “Will I have to fight him, too, for the mess that I’ve made?” She chuckled, and it sent shivers down Lotor’s spine from where her breath hit the tender skin behind his ear, but then she was up and away from him, and he shivered for a whole set of different reasons.

“You leave Zuko to me, and worry about getting better. I’ll be sure to make you pay for every bruised and confused guard afterwards,” Azula said with a smirk that promised things Lotor was in no condition to even begin to consider. 

“Of course, princess,” he nodded in agreement, in lieu of not being able to kneel at her feet— because that’s what one must do, when faced with the daughter of the sun and lightning.

-

Recovery was not as slow as Lotor would’ve expected, considering he refused to leave the palace at all— to leave her at all— not even to go to the healing pod on his ship. But whereas the Fire Nation and this planet as a whole was in severe technological disadvantage compared to the rest of the universe Lotor had explored, they had other means to reach the same end.

After that first moment where he opened his eyes to the princess, he’d been regularly visited by healers that worked with what they called  _ chi, _ and that he’d long since understood it was their name for quintessence.

Their way of healing was still a mystery to him, given it consisted of laying of hands and the use of their element against his wounds. It was almost as if their fire willed the injuries to close, and he was fascinated by it. Every day he’d ask the healers about it, and every day he felt he was closer to the answer, and yet not close enough.

He asked the princess one day and was surprised to learn she did not possess that ability. That fire, the same as alchemy, did not manifest in every bender the same way. She was the push to the healers’ pull, the destruction of the forest that came before the healing of the soil, as she put it. Lotor had wanted to argue, but the words were too embellished in his tongue. He was not versed enough in the art of firebending, was still learning the art of her, to know whether his counter-argument would’ve been well accepted.

The Fire Lord also made several appearances in his room over the course of those first few days. Lotor had not exactly met him before, too busy trailing behind the incandescent steps of his sister to pay him any mind, but Lotor found out he quite liked the young ruler. Especially when the man opened his mouth to speak and the first thing out of his lips was a promise to make Lotor pay if so much as a hair was out of place on Azula’s lovely tresses.

Lotor could respect that, and the way he saw the Fire Lord rule over his people with fairness, integrity, and as much distance from his father’s methods as humanly possible. It was not rare for the two of them to be found sharing a cup of tea and conversation over common topics, after the tension from Lotor wreaking havoc throughout the man’s palace was smoothed over.

That he’d spotted the princess smiling at the two of them together when she thought he didn’t see her was an extra bonus. Lotor carried it close to his heart when then night came and he found his way to the room they’d so graciously given him.

-

“I want to show you something,” Azula called for him one morning, as soon as he’d finished placing the fork on the table once breakfast was done. She had a mysterious glint in her eye, and that alone was reason for Lotor to stand and follow her to the very edge of the nearest active volcano.

The princess led them through the hallways and Lotor chased the shimmering of the gold in her gown as they passed by the tall windows, shedding light into the heavy carpeted floors. They walked in silence, but Lotor didn’t mind for it gave him time to memorize her light step and the soft sway of her hips.

It was a new path they were taking, twisting and turning until they reached the very back of the palace, and exited to the gardens. The red of her dress was a striking contrast against the green of the grass, and the light blue sky. Her inky hair, that she kept mostly loose on a regular basis, flowed softly with the morning breeze, carrying the scent of roses and jasmine towards him. He memorized that as well.

The palace gardens were ample, with open spaces such as the training fields where he’d taken to watch her firebend before the sun rose, or even accepted a friendly spar with the Fire Lord, who Lotor had pleasantly learned was a wonderful swordsman. They passed the hidden nooks in the gardens as well, like the one spot amidst hanging flowers, and a shallow pond where Azula took her tea in the afternoons, colorful fish swimming around as she entertained a book in her hands, and Lotor pretended to read as well.

This area, though, was new to him. As they moved further away from the tall granite walls of the palace and the grass under his feet became less and less green, his curiosity grew.

Lotor was no stranger to beasts, having seen many and varied in his trips across the universe, but the scarlet dragon that rested against a cropping of rocks at the very edge of the palace walls was certainly one to be admired.

In his time as a soldier in the Fire Nation army, Lotor had heard the tales of dragons: large winged beasts that breathed fire and had once been considered companions to the greatest firebenders. They were the very masters of the element and teachers to the first humans wielders of the power. History said they were extinct, however, the last one killed by the princess’ own uncle, and so Lotor had only seen depictions of them in books. To have a breathing one in front of him was definitely a sight to behold.

“I thought they were dead.”

“It’s Zuko’s,” was Azula’s sole explanation, and Lotor turned to watch a shoulder shrug in a poorly-wrought gesture of nonchalance. He took a step closer to her, and his movement had the beast crack an eye open. The simmering red and gold seemed to gauge Lotor’s worth from afar.

Against his better judgement, he moved his gaze to the princess once again. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was jealous. The thought had him smiling fondly, remembering she was still young in so many respects.

“Do you want a dragon, princess?” Lotor kept the amusement out of his question as best as he could, and when she didn’t answer quickly enough he knew he’d struck a nerve. He walked a little closer until there was barely any space between her back and his chest, and he could make out the intricate pattern of the golden lace covering her shoulders. “I can give you one. Or something quite similar, at the very least.”

She looked up back at him, eyes blown honey gold in the sunlight but eyebrows curved in skepticism. “You only have to ask for it.” Lotor would tear apart the entire planet, chase the last glimpse of any dying star to find her a winged creature that breathed fire, if that’s what she truly wanted. 

The moment stretched, her gaze gauging the truth to his words, and Lotor far too comfortable under it, basking in the way her fire danced around them. He was sure he wasn’t imagining the curiosity in the warmth, prodding at his sides, and licking at every bit of exposed skin. He took a chance, a hand resting at the curve of her waist, and felt the heat waver, flicker and intensify, Azula’s lashes fluttering. The most faint of blushes spread across her nose and cheekbones. “You only ever have to ask.”

-

“Stay,” she said one night. It was well into four phoebs since Lotor had fallen back into her arms, and well past midnight as well. He looked up from the book he’d been perusing for the past couple of hours to catch her curled up on the lounge chair she’d been so comfortably spread across not a moment ago. He never noticed the change, and that settled uncomfortably on his chest.

“In the library?” Lotor asked, risking her fire for playing dumb with her, but there was certain chill to the air around them. One he was sure had to do with the princess’ still frame and forlorn eyes. She looked like a marble statue in the half-light around them, with the way the shadows cast across her face.

“With me.”

The openness robbed Lotor of whatever answer he could’ve had planned. The book on his hands was forgotten, left back at the desk, his chair pushed back. Before he knew it, he was fixing his robes to kneel at her side. 

“You don’t know me, princess. Why would you want that?” He offered his hands, resting willingly on the chaise, in hopes that she’d take them.

“I know you more than you think I do.” He shook his head at her words, unable to stop himself, no matter how very much he’d rather just accept them. He’d much rather gather her in his arms and never let go.

“Princess,” Lotor had explored the possibility of just telling her everything— had been considering it for over one of her decades— and let her finally make the choice to push him away. But he was selfish when it came right down to it, and he kept on telling himself just one more day. One more week. One last month with her secret smiles and snarky quips. “I’m not even from here.” It was the best he could do to start with.

“I know that.”

“This is not how I normally look,” he gestured loosely to the image he’d created for her to know him by. From his Fire Nation’s style clothes, to the way his skin was far from its natural lilac, his ears not their characteristic pointy shape. Even his hair was jet black, to match the nation’s common genetics.

“I know that too.”

“Azula, I—” The name slipped from his lips. Perhaps he was calling her over, or maybe he was pleading with her to understand what he couldn’t tell her yet.

“You hardly ever say that, my name.” Her legs slipped from where she had them tucked, falling between Lotor’s arms. His eyes slipped from her face to the narrow of her waist. He only had to move but an inch, and he’d have her in his hands. He could lean forward, bury himself on her lap. “Say it again.”

He licked his lips, throat suddenly too tight. “Azula.”

The reaction was minuscule, but he couldn’t have missed it. The tightening of her stomach, and rise of her chest, curving her spine just barely. Her mouth parted around a silent sound, and Lotor was only so strong.

He pushed up to her level, and before she could even blink, claimed her lips. She was right there to catch him, though. Willing, ready. Her hands caressed up his neck, to the back and into his hair, and she pulled him closer. Lotor guided her back down onto the chaise, following, and drank her in.

-

He stayed.

For the next three years, he became the very image of a respectable Fire Nation citizen.

To anyone outside the royal siblings, there was a cover story Lotor hardly even bothered in learning. Not because he didn’t care, but because people didn’t dare come too close to him after the arrival incident.

Lotor held a position in Zuko’s inner circle of advisors, where more often than not Lotor found himself working side-by-side with the Fire Lord with gusto. He’d been brought up a prince, that was true, but Lotor had always had little hope of getting to actually rule the Galra in his lifetime. Regardless, he had much he could share with Zuko, and plenty he could learn from the young man.

He developed a routine again, where Lotor had time to read, train, rest properly, eat well, and all with the enchanting attentions of his princess, and amicable company of his Fire Lord. It was a life he’d not known before luck and stars brought him to this remote little planet, but Lotor found he quite liked it.

He’d probably find it in himself to like anything, so long as it came wrapped around one of Azula’s wicked smiles or one of her coy games. She’d even taken him flying on the dragon— Druk, he’d learned was the name. Not that Lotor had been scared of the beast, no. He found Azula all the more terrifying on a daily basis, and he still dared to wrap his arms around her middle and kiss her breathless.

Besides, Lotor had flown his fair share of ships and creatures, but he and the dragon were not exactly becoming fast friends. Lotor had told the princess as much, and she’d said it was because he was hiding himself. That the beast could tell.

Her eyes had matched Druk’s then, both of them boring deep into him, and Lotor was transported back to that first confrontation in her war chamber when he could’ve sworn she’d seen right through his disguise.

It took him some time to let it fall down, but his princess deserved him whole. Because he was already hers to keep.

-

It was early one morning, the sun not out yet, and Azula still sleeping soundly in his arms, when Lotor decided to finally forego the false appearance she’d come to know of him.

He braced himself for the moment the sun would make its first appearance on the Fire Nation’s sky, and she’d stir in bed, body responding to her bending’s call.

It was always such a precious moment, the one where her eyes would flutter open, sleep still very much present in her golden eyes, yet body awakening with a warmth that was so uniquely hers. He watched carefully for the moment she’d see the changes in him. He waited for fear, disquiet perhaps, and a lengthy conversation where he'd have to explain his existence. It never came.

Instead, Azula’s mouth curved into a pleased smile, and her gaze traveled across the novelty of his looks.

“Your hair is white,” was the first thing out of her sweet lips, his arms tightened around her.

“It is,” he responded with as much normalcy as he could, mimicking her unphasedness.

“Did you know, white hair is the sign of La, the god of the moon?” Azula commented, very much as any other of their morning conversations where they’d talk about pretty much anything that crossed their sleep-aided minds.

“Is that so?” Lotor turned, moving away enough to be able to see her better. The faint glow of the sun creeping through the parted curtains dusted her face in a soft pink hue— her face that he could now kiss anytime he wanted. He did so. When he pulled away once again, there was a blush there that was not before.

“I think it suits you.” The closeness of her answer to the truth left his heart fluttering an uneven pace behind his ribs.

“You’re far too smart for your own good.” He brushed black hair behind her ear, and let his hand rest on the soft skin of her slender neck.

“I’ve been told as much.” Her grin was bright and teasing, and Lotor couldn’t very well let her have it all so easy. He pulled her under the sheets and wiped the smugness from her lips with a kiss.

That morning, she didn’t get to train before the sun was way up in the sky, but she didn’t complain either.

-

Eventually, Lotor showed himself to the Fire Lord as well. He valued his friendship, respected the man enough to let him be privy to his real self.

Zuko had many questions, and Lotor answered them all to the best of his abilities and the man’s comprehension.

Afterwards, the breakfasts the three of them shared some of the mornings, after the siblings’ training sessions, became private to just them. No guards, no servants, and no masks.

Lotor hoped he’d managed to convey just how grateful he was for that.

-

With everything on the table, it was only a matter of time before Lotor was called back to space. He should’ve suspected he was not to have peace for long. He’d never been so fortunate, so why would he begin to be now?

Still, he delayed his departure for as long as he could. He didn’t tell her about it, and she pretended she didn’t know, and the both of them acted as if nothing was wrong.

Lotor spent his last months in the Fire Nation committing everything to memory.

From the way the sun rose every morning over the outcropping of rocks where the dragon rested, to how the staff moved around the palace: bowing respectfully his way, rushing behind Zuko’s step, and dancing around Azula in a mixture of dutifulness and fear.

He memorized the Fire Lord’s kind acknowledgement of his words, and the hard parry of his double blades against Lotor’s longsword. Their late afternoon tea, often secluded in the man's private office looking out to a small garden where he kept a pond full of turtle-ducks.

And he lost plenty of hours of rest tracing every one of the princess’ features, and committing her gracious movements to mind. Her firebending, and the way her hands gestured when she was feeling particularly snazzy. The length of her hair, and the softness of her robes.

How precious she looked when sitting under her favorite tree, hands toying with her unique blue flames, and how she was always happy to make them dance for him. He’d never tire of her fire, and she seemed not to tire of that predilection of his.

That, and the way she said his name, were the things Lotor was slowly cataloging for safekeeping, along with his heart.

"Lotor," she'd say once in a while, testing the name for weaknesses.

"Lotor!" she'd chide, and the sound would curl around the  _ r _ , and soften at the  _ t _ , whenever one of his cold hands found its way under the silks of her dresses.

" _ Lotor, _ " she'd sigh into the pillow, the word barely a sound, her warm skin alight in the middle of the night as he lost himself in her. Until there was nothing left of the man, but his devotion to her. As it should be.

"My Prince," she said one day, her face was all tease and her smile a dangerous bet to take on.

"My Princess," Lotor answered, amazed yet unsurprised at her way of knowing. "How? If I may ask." She smiled, the tiniest curl to her lips, but the glow of victory in her eyes.  _ Agni, _ he could’ve died right there and what an exquisite way to go.

"You don't stand like a soldier, you should know. Never have. And I can see that weight upon your shoulders, the same one my brother had for so long.” Her hands drew warm circles down his back, keeping Lotor properly pinned to her, for nowhere across galaxies would ever feel as wonderful as here with her. “Although, I have to say, you carry it with far more grace. Must be the white hair."

"Oh, you think so?" he laughed, a soft and breezy sound she always managed to steal from him somehow. The corners of her eyes tightened, and she looked the very image of smugness, and so comfortable in it, like someone born to be always right.

"So you like my hair, I see." Lotor detoured his thoughts before they could become unbearable.

It was his turn to steal from her. A kiss, and a sigh, and the faintest blush to her cheeks. It was adorable in a way she kept too close to her heart, but that he’d managed to make last more and more each time, even when it got him a playful zap of her electrifying fingers afterwards. A soft reprimand for making her vulnerable even in the privacy of her room.

"I do." The open admission took the air from his lungs far more than her powers could've ever accomplished. Her fingers threading on a lock of it, took with them whichever remaining piece of his heart she'd not yet owned. "My Prince."

The assault to her lips was far from graceful then, no restraint left in Lotor when she was willingly giving so much. He kissed to quiet her, to make her spill more. To memorize the way her tongue teased his, and how her body pleaded with the arch of her back in a silent demand for more.

And he’d always give her more. Lotor would've parted the sky and brought down whichever star she asked him for, just to feel the way her skin ignited under his hands, following the path of his fingers down her hips and up between her legs. He kissed to quiet her, before one of her smart remarks made him stay there forever. 

He kissed to make her spill more, so that she accomplished it.

-

Space had always had that empty quality to it. Lotor knew it came with vastness and the unknown. With the mysteries yet to discover, and the ones already unraveled and lurking in the darkest of the universe’s confines. He’d long since made peace with a life of solitude amongst the stars, ever since he was nothing but a kit trying to be in his father’s good graces, and failing miserably at each attempt.

He’d crossed the edges of the known universe, and met the widest array of planets and species a single being had probably ever done. He had the time, the means. He had the thirst for knowledge, and the drive to find a place where he’d fit at last.

Lotor had known places where he was revered, and others where he was feared. He’d been on planets where he was the sole inhabitant, and he’d thrived in the quietness of being one with its nature, barren or otherwise.

He’d made friends in some places, but those hardly lasted, and he’d never tried that again, after the emperor deemed his conquests another one of his weaknesses. Lotor had caused the end of entire races, just for daring to try a different approach to his people’s hunger for power.

He’d made promises then, to himself and to the very stars, that never again would he try that. If his role was to be the son of the emperor, then that’s who he would be, no matter the bloodshed to become who he had to.

It was short-lived, of course. He didn’t have that in him, and the knowledge pleased him as much as it terrified him.

He’d taken detours from his tasks then. He’d tried to find another way out. And he’d made plans that involved everything from learning more— learning everything there was to learn— to ending his father’s very life.

Lotor knew who he was supposed to be then, and he’d worked towards that for deca-phoebs without a hitch. Until he met her.

Now the stars were empty and devoid of charm, and Lotor thought he knew real solitude. He thought he’d finally felt the coldest one could feel while out in the barren and never-ending blackness of space.

How mistaken he’d been.

-

It was six deca-phoebs later when he returned to her planet, his body aching to see his princess again, his mind conjuring images of how she’d look at the peak of adulthood. His fingers itched to have the ink of her hair spilling between them once again, and his mouth could almost taste the faint dregs of the tea she claimed to despise but still drank every day. Always the indulgent sister to her brother, sitting by his side, and following his lead even in things as inconsequential as the delicate teacups she nested in her hands. Letting the beverage grow cold, and warming it up once again, a silly loop until she finally drank it all.

He never got to see her again.

Instead of the bright smile Lotor had dreamed of on his journey back to the planet, what greeted him was the broken face of the Fire Lord. Lotor needn’t stay to hear the words to know his reality to be forever twisted in agony.

He stayed nonetheless, especially when the man in the red and gold robes seemed as desperate for Lotor’s company as he’d been for his sister’s.

Lotor knew pain plenty. He knew the type that cut through skin and muscle, that broke bones, and he knew the one that came from rejection and fear. As a kit, he thought he’d learned the pain of losing a loved one when told about his mother and how he’d never know her. But that day, on that small and primitive planet, Lotor learned he had never known pain before.

Zuko spoke words of sorrow, of regret so deep it was embedded in his body. Lotor knew the Fire Lord had never known pain like this, either. He spoke, and spoke, and the words filled Lotor’s mind and trickled into his chest in the form of burning fire. They reached his stomach, turned into bile and nausea, and rooted his feet to the hard, cold stone of the palace, its walls chilled as never before. For it was missing its sun, and the Fire Lord’s heat had never been quite as strong as his sister’s.

Lotor knew real cold then. And he knew he’d never be warm ever again. Not for real. Not the kind of warmth that came with playful fingers to tease at his neck, or the one that followed behind Azula’s retreating form, as she sprinted away for him to chase. The warmth of her smile in the mornings, far stronger than that of Agni himself. He’d never be warm again, and that had him falling onto his knees in the middle of the throne room, the very Fire Lord comforting the man sobbing over his sister.

Later, however much later it was that Lotor managed to compose himself into some semblance of the man that had hopped off the ship on that day, the words Zuko had spoken finally made sense in his mind.

Lotor unspooled them, one twist at a time, to learn of the attack on the palace and attempt on the Fire Lord’s life. A failed one, for his sister stepped in the way at the cost of her own.

The wing where it happened was sealed, but Lotor walked in just the same. Feet dragging against marble and charred carpets, he stood there for hours. Maybe even days. No one was counting, and no one dared move him from his spot. He agonized over the remnants of what had once been a hallway filled with paintings of the past rulers, once heavy drapes that now stood ashen and barren the same as his chest.

Lotor tried to picture her, the very flame that lit the entire palace, swift and deadly as he’d seen before, fighting for her brother’s life. He wailed pathetically as he did so, but he had to.

He had to see her one last time, alive and fiery, with the blue flames around her, and that impossibly bright fire to her eyes. He had to know she’d been her very self, vibrant and challenging until the very end.

And when the hollow in Lotor’s soul became as dark as the end of the universe itself and he couldn’t stand the anguish coiling in his stomach, he left the place and he hunted the assassins down.

It was a slaughter.

When he returned to the palace, blood still fresh on his body, he dared not walk into her room for he would not taint the place with it.

Zuko found him eventually, walking aimlessly in the labyrinthine pathways extending beneath the palace.

“Come, let’s get you changed.” Zuko placed a hand on Lotor’s shoulder, leading him back up. “I’ve got something to show you.” Lotor was then offered a new chance at sunlight.

-

The morning sun wasn’t as bright the next day, and Lotor figured it was somewhat fitting for a goodbye. Zuko, too, was more somber at the breakfast table than Lotor had ever known him to be, even if he tried his best to make small talk with Lotor and his daughter.

Their little princess.

Lotor could hardly remember anything from that first deca-phoeb back on the planet. Everything was a blur of pain, and endless nights awake in sorrow by Azula’s bed, mixed with love and small hands pulling him away from it all. Lotor could hardly tell day from night most of the time, but his daughter, she’d taken to him as soon as the two of them met, and was resolute to keep him from spiralling further down.

Lotor had started to sleep at night, just to be able to watch her train in the mornings- a mixture of dual swords and firebending alongside her uncle- and ready to face the barrage of questions she asked during breakfast afterwards. Her curiosity was as big as her mother’s if far less guarded, for she had not been born amidst a war, nor knew rejection from those in charge of caring for her.

That had been the main reason Lotor refused to take her away. At the palace she was cared for, loved, happy. How selfish of him would it be to bring her out to space, drag her into the carnage that was his father’s war?

“She won’t be able to stay hidden within the palace forever,” Zuko told him one day, midway through the second year of his stay, the two of them walking side by side through the palace gardens, the princess up ahead. They stopped, letting her escape them to keep this conversation away from her pointy, curious ears. “I can protect her behind closed doors, but what kind of life is that for her, hidden for her whole life?”

Lotor heard, his eyes secured on his girl, watching the sunshine on her blueish skin, and light purple hair. She was dressed in training gear, and not even the very clear differences could deny that she was Azula’s girl. Her movements were as gracious, mind as sharp, her bending as deadly. She turned, catching him staring, big blue eyes against faint yellow sclera and head cocked to the side in a silent question.

Lotor shook his head, and after a second of doubt, she was off playing with her fire once again. It was bright and purple, a thing Zuko had said was entirely new to them all. That too, separated her from the rest of her people. And even when he loved every way in which his little girl was as much his as she was Azula’s, the ability to change appearance was not one she inherited.

The Fire Lord was right, of course. The guards and staff at the palace were bound and sworn to secrecy, but Zuko couldn’t do the same with his entire nation. He couldn’t be sure how the other three nations would react, either, no matter that they were at peace now.

It still took them another year to finally be able to leave.

Lotor wouldn’t admit it, but he didn’t want to leave, much as he knew was the best for all parties involved. He tried to stretch it as much as possible under the guise of training his girl. Teaching her their language; how to wield a longsword like his; to pilot his ship; to call him lord when not alone, for her own safety.

A part of Lotor longed to stay, and ached as his little princess mastered each of the tasks, and every weapon he put in her hands. Another part of him, the one that dragged him out of bed early in the mornings, and laughed at his exaggerated complaints— that part of him wanted to see the stars up close. To be out and explore everything he’d told her about, everything her mother hadn’t had a chance to see.

Lotor had learned long ago he was unable to refuse anything to Fire Nation princesses.

-

“When are you letting me pilot?” The voice behind Lotor’s cockpit chair was laced with sleep still, yet full of demands he knew came with being a pretty, smart, and spoiled princess. He turned to watch his girl taking a seat on the co-pilot’s chair, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Next quintant.”

“Next— dad, no! You said that last quintant! This is so unfair.” Lotor chuckled, watching her slump on the seat, arms crossed over her chest, and lips pursed in a pout.

He couldn’t say he’d ever seen Azula quite as sulking. He liked to think she could’ve been like this, if war hadn’t tainted her. He liked to think he could keep war from tainting his girl, too. For as long as he could, at the very least.

“Ugh, you’re doing that wistful thing again!” Lotor was pulled from his musing by his girl’s groan and a roll of her eyes. It pulled another laugh from his throat, and he put the ship on autopilot to get out of the chair.

“Is that the way to talk to your lord, little girl?” He teased, moving to lean against the bulkhead next to where she was seated. Lotor raised an eyebrow her way, waiting. She pressed her lips into a thinner line, blue eyes looking up at him from under long purple lashes.

In the end, she broke the stare and lost, but only because Lotor had a couple thousand years of experience ahead of her. He laughed at her renewed groan and waved a hand for her to follow.

“You know, groaning is very unbecoming of little princesses.” Lotor turned to watch her walking next to him, chin up and spine straight with her hands clasped at her back. He slowed to match her strides.

“You know, lying to princesses is very unbecoming of lords,” she answered, and her face was so strikingly like her mother’s right then, what with the raised eyebrow and lips curled up to the left in that cheeky smirk. Lotor’s step faltered then, and she turned to wait. The way her eyes softened told him she knew. The smile that bent her mouth said it was okay.

“Where are we going?” she asked after a couple of ticks as though none of that had passed silently between them, and Lotor could hug her for it if it wouldn’t defeat the purpose of her discretion. He’d find a reason to hug her later, and she’d groan, claiming he was too sappy. It would be okay.

“ _ We _ are not going anywhere, young lady, but you,” Lotor stopped right as they reached the door to her cabin, motioning for her to open it and leaning back against the doorframe. “You’re going to get changed into proper flight clothes,” he motioned disapprovingly to her very Fire Nation robes, ignoring the fact that he was wearing the same as her. “And then get onto your explorer. If you pass today’s trial flight, then tomorrow you get to pilot the ship.”

Her eyes widened impossibly blue, face alight with unbound excitement, and she was in and out of the room in record time, calling back at him as she sprinted through the ship’s hallways to the hangar.

Lotor walked back to the cockpit, knowing she would just chide him if he were to go with her, putting on her helmet for her and making sure everything was right with her craft. She knew all of that already,  _ she was no baby _ . And  _ Agni _ but she wasn’t, and they were getting closer to the emperor’s ship each varga. Lotor knew he had to let her grow up even if the pace of it scared him.

“Everything ready back there?” he asked through the comms, starting the sequence to open the hangar’s door.

“Everything ready,  _ my lord, _ ” his girl answered, and Lotor could hear the teasing grin on her voice. Oh, but he’d hug her thrice when she was back, just to make her pay.

“Already challenging your commanding officer, I see.” Lotor shook his head, knowing his words lacked strength, and that it would only fuel her rebellious side all the more.

“That’s because the commanding officer is a known liar. If I pass this, I  _ will _ pilot the ship this time. No tricks,” she threatened, her explorer already out in the vastness of space. Lotor’s heart swelled in his chest, pride and fear twisting dangerously.

“No tricks. I promise, darling.”

“Dad? Are you going to cry?” The voice through the comms was a mixture of teasing and worry.

“I am most definitely not going to cry, you little brat.”

“If you say so...”

“I say so.”

“Hey dad?”

“Yes, Acxa?”

“I am  _ so _ piloting that ship tomorrow.” She was off before he could answer, a blue trail cutting through the field of black behind her.

Lotor sat back, keeping a watchful eye on the explorer’s readout. He fixed his robe, cold softly seeping into his body, just like every time his girl left the craft. The numbers were outstanding, just like her. Pride for his girl, Azula’s girl, warmed his chest. She  _ would _ pilot the next day.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feed me, long, short, keyboard smashes, emojis, your choice!
> 
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